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It was the sturdy individual who had burst into a wail at Clare's funeral, his hair still bristling against a formal application of soap. "C'm on in, doggy," he called; "c'm in, Ginral. I wisht I had a doggy like that," he hung on his mother's knees lamenting the absence from their household of a General Jackson. "Our ol' houn' dog's nothing," he asserted.
C'm awn in an' eat," he invited, and Bud dismounted, never guessing that his slightest motion had been carefully observed from the time he had forded the creek at the foot of the slope beyond the cabin. Bart introduced him to the men by the simple method of waving his hand at the group around the table and saying, "Guess you know the boys. What'd yuh say we could call yuh?"
'Did they pot y', Jim? 'Nicked my shoulder, I guess. 'Where you goin'? 'To town. 'Man, says Simmie, 'you've lost a lot o' blood. 'Got a little left, Simmie. "Then John Fryin' Pan c'm along. Simmie tried to ride to town with Laramie f'r fear he'd fall off his horse. Laramie wouldn't let neither of 'em do a thing. 'This is my fight, he says.
This dangerously delayed their progress. "I got a good mind to leave you," Gordon told him; "something's busted and I want to make the village soon's I can; and here you drag and hang back. You did it all, too. C'm on, you dam' fool: I could get along twice as smart without you."
"She ain't got nothin' to explain," said hard old Marthy with grim finality. "I'll do what explainin's to be done. C'm in. Don't stand there like a stump. And shut the door. It's cold as a barn here, anyway." "Oh, Marthy!" cried Billy Louise, with the sound of tears in her voice. "Don't oh Marthy me," said the harsh voice flatly. "I don't want no Marthyin' nor no sympathy.
Adeline, the cat, came out of the stable and looked at them contemplatively. Adeline still had the string tied to her tail, and a wisp of paper tied to the string. The Kid pounced and caught her by the middle. "I guess I can tie knots so they stay, by cripes!" he shouted vaingloriously. "I guess Happy Jack can't tie strings any better 'n me, can he? Nice kitty c'm back here, you son-a-gun!"
But if he wasn't lame I'd have some! I'd show ye 't I admire gameness in a kid. I would so." Jeff nudged his neighbor into laughter. "There ain't a gamer old bird in the valley than Pop," Jeff cried. "C'm awn, Pop, I'll bet yuh ten dollars the kid beats me!" Pop was shuffling hurriedly out of the corral after the liniment. To Jeff's challenge he made no reply whatever.
Again her skin grew faintly pink. "Good business! Go to it! Every little bit helps. Well, congratulations, Lucy. So long! C'm on, Hiram." "Thanks." Lucy laughed, and went into her little room. Hiram sighed boyishly, upset the toothpick holder at his elbow, and fled in Mr. Tweet's wake. "Pretty nifty little kid," Tweet remarked, as Hiram joined him. "You know her wh-what's her name?"
In the south the sun shone, but the air had grown suddenly cold, and in the sharp drop de Spain realized what was coming. De Spain regarded him with astonishment. "How did you get here?" was his sharp question. "Got what I was after, and c'm' back sooner'n I expected. Half-way over to the Gap, I met Duke and the young gal on horseback, headed for Calabasas. They pulled up. I pulled up.
The glad light of loyalty, which always had transfigured his visage when Link called to him, was woefully lacking. Drunk as he was Ferris could not help noticing the change. And he marveled at it. "Whasser matter?" he demanded truculently. "What ails yer? C'm here, I'm tellin' you!" He stretched out his hand in rough caress to the slowly approaching collie.
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